


Don't you want me to?

by starletes



Series: Blood of the rich [4]
Category: DCU (Comics), Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Kissing, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Romance, Tension, Vampire Jeremiah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starletes/pseuds/starletes
Summary: " It all felt natural, under Jeremiah’s spell Bruce was helpless, dazed in pleasure of his tongue running over his jugular all he wanted was for the sharp teeth to do so as well, push his limits, break the skin, follow his desires and eat Bruce whole. The monstrous growls revealed he wanted to. "





	Don't you want me to?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome. Just something, Bruce spend an hour or so before Jeremiah showed up. It was hard for me to make it clear in the story so I thought I'd say it here.   
> Enjoy.

“Goddamn it, Selina!” Bruce rages as his curse echoes in the empty space of Jeremiah’s church. _It’s Jeremiah’s._

The boy tugs at the handcuffs still, even after the cold sharp edges leave marks on his wrist, causing a distracting itching. He watched Selina limp towards the exit, she was mumbling under her breath, hand holding on to her injured leg as she slowly disappeared from Bruce’s sight completely, leaving him to the fate that had a surprise in store but that the boy was not yet aware of. 

Candles were burning in a distance, possibly there to cover up the smell iron of blood running in rivers in the pool, stink of long left and forgotten wasted human bodies rotting, gasoline. The cryptic atmosphere with Jeremiah’s face on the stained glass windows, high roof, empty space in which Bruce can hear his own breath echo was putting his mind at a weird comforting ease, weakening his legs and slowing the heartbeat until dizziness wants to swallow him whole and put him to deep peaceful sleep. Staying alert in such position, without being able to reach the ground was torturous. 

He could not get rid of the feeling of being watched. He felt someone else’s presence, stronger than his, filling the room until the air became denser and hard to breathe. As if an invisible entity was lurking in the dark abyss on the other side of , trying to predict his next move or just enjoying the display of pure helplessness, feeding on the distress. 

“You are such a precious thing to watch, Bruce.”A voice from the gloom speaks, silky tender and mesmerising, touching the very depths of Bruce’s soul, causing a squeezing sensation in his chest when his mind registered who’s voice it is. He spoke with such fascination, as if commenting on a masterpiece in a museum, admiration in his monotonic deep throaty voice. _Thing_ , is what he approached to him as after all. 

_Jeremiah_. Of course. He swore he could feel his presence, as if two pale hands suddenly took hold of his body and lulled him to sleep. His nails would gently dig into the skin at the back of his head, the other tug at his hair while red luscious lips would be ghosting over the sensitive area of his neck. 

Almost longingly, Bruce sighs trying to escape the intrusive thoughts. He might be hallucinating, seeing visions, his mind playing tricks on him now that it’s at its weakest. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip in attempt to stop the uncontrollable nervous twitching. 

Instinctively Bruce pulls at the cuffs but not to uselessly try and break free, but rather as a reminder to stay collected and sharp minded. They weren’t going to magically unlock, were they?

He considers his next move carefully. The goal is to escape alive, breathing, mobile and preferably confront Jeremiah in a way that would let him do all of the above. _Wake up_.

“After all we’ve been through, do you really think I could do that to you? I’m disappointed…” The man expresses his rather dishonest disappointment and reveals himself, stepping out of the dark blinding shadows. 

A tall slim figure, perfect face features are exposed to Bruce’s sight. Blindingly white skin, bruises that Bruce last saw Jeremiah with gone as if they were never there. Purple magenta lips matched the colour of his glamorous clothes, hair glossy with a strand brushing over his long sharp shaped eyebrows, eyes shining with joy and anticipation. His fancy shoes clicked as he slowly worked his way towards the boy, appreciating him as well, his eyes traveling down from his face to the fight suit, black leather gloves all the way down to his shoes where they stopped and quickly dug into Bruce’s wide eyes again. 

Impressed, Jeremiah lets out a chuckle. “You came here ready for a fight, I see. Smart boy.” Dangerously close now, a metre or so away from the boy the pale man says. Bruce unintentionally attempts to back away, but there is nothing but the gate behind him, trapping him between itself and his encounterer. 

Jeremiah’s gaze cut into him deeper and deeper the closer he got, like a knife being pushed into soft flesh, breaking through the fragile layer that gave in too easily. Without breaking the eye contact, Jeremiah finally reaches the boy, his long pale fingers seek out to gently brush against Bruce’s cheek, intimately, in a manner that a lover would.

The aroma of Jeremiah’s spicy peppermint perfume killed the stink immediately, once breathed in causing an unexplainable reaction of excitement and desire in Bruce’s body. 

Jeremiah’s other hand travels down from the boy’s neck to his other hand, fingers tickle the exposed area between Bruce’s glove and the jacket, right where the cuffs were digging into sensitive skin. 

“Your friend should be smarter, leaving you in the heart of my church for me to do as I please is… or maybe I should thank her after all. She only rushed this inevitable meeting.” 

Now with Jeremiah’s mouth at Bruce’s, lipstick smearing his own’s he could feel the power radiating from the other, a bond, a calling telling him let the fate lead. _Let him, his mind said._

He could not explain the sudden shift in his behaviour and thoughts, as if under a spell he’s compliant and more relaxed, Jeremiah is no longer the enemy. 

Bruce’s head hits the metal gates when Jeremiah’s lips force themselves onto Bruce’s, parting them and slipping his tongue in, enfolding the pink plushy lips of the boy with his while passionately but not too harshly dominating the kiss. Bruce didn’t seem to be too oppose, or perhaps he had no strength to fight, knowing it in his heart that if Jeremiah wants to do it, he will do it now or later. 

He pulls at the restraints, feeling his hand go numb when Jeremiah’s strong grip cuts off the circulation to his palm, his heart beating irregularly, pulse growing faster under Jeremiah’s thumb when his sharp teeth pull at his bottom lip, a suppressed wet whine, more like a growl escaping the boy’s throat. It’s only enticing to Jeremiah, how Bruce’s body gives in to his mere seduction techniques even when the voice at the back of his head was screaming with denial. He barely had to put any effort in order for Bruce to do as he wanted. And that might have as well be because secretly, he wants it too.

There was no necessity to use glamour on the boy. As if under command that Jeremiah did not give, his head tilts to side even before the kiss is broken, exposing his veins and life to the man, who the boy can sense, wants it all. He wants to taste that rich blood and youth on his tongue, feel the blossom and beauty of it, draw pretty moans out of the brunette that only Jeremiah so close to him would hear. 

It all felt natural, under Jeremiah’s spell Bruce was helpless, dazed in pleasure of his tongue running over his jugular all he wanted was for the sharp teeth to do so as well, push his limits, break the skin, follow his desires and eat Bruce whole. The monstrous growls revealed he wanted to. 

“I can hear you think…” Jeremiah purrs, his lips moving just above Bruce’s Adam’s apple, feeling it vibrate with every sweet moan the man in his hands makes. 

No longer did Bruce want to fight, he let Jeremiah take control of his relaxed body. The hand that wasn’t at his cuffed aching one tugged at his hair slightly, gently, pulling just enough to have all the maximum access to the sweet blood under Bruce’s skin. Unethically, he sniffs, taking in the oddor of pheromones and slight ardor that the boy gave away. 

The skin… So fragile, so tender and juicy. Without a warning, Jeremiah sinks his fangs into it, burying them deep in the skin until the teeth disappear in it. 

“ _Ah…_ ” Bruce lets out an unexpected high pitched sound at the sensation, feeling beads of blood trail down his neck, it’s hot against his own skin, burning, almost. Pain stretched to his shoulder, down his arm to the numb hand, like a shock wave. 

Within moments, Jeremiah’s mouth is full of Bruce’s heat, his heartbeat on the tip of Jeremiah’s tongue, blood smearing his pale chin, painting an uncomfortably disturbing but beautiful contrast. He does not register any of the sounds that come out of his mouth, groans that get muffled by the neck against his greedy lips. 

Bruce allows Jeremiah to pull at his hair, even if it’s rough, run his finger in circles on his back even if it makes him feel nasty. 

Jeremiah’s teeth left two holes in the crook of Bruce’s neck, his tongue licked off the area clean until there were only traces of blood left. It traveled up, his wet muscle touching the sharp jawline before slipping back into Bruce’s open mouth. He gasped at the sudden sensation, _pleasant_ sensation. 

He tasted the iron and had no other choice but to swallow it all. Dizzy and weak he had no strength or want to deny Jeremiah’s touch on the side of his thigh either. By the time he ran out of air, heart at the rate of a hummingbird’s wings, Jeremiah’s hand was on his small back, he leaned over to meet Bruce’s shut eyes.

Gently, touch light, he brushed off the greasy hair off Bruce’s forehead, _a command to open his eyes_. “Still want to fight?” He hums, not hiding the smirk in his voice. 

_No_ , Bruce wants to say but no sound comes out, throat dry and almost sore. However, Jeremiah seemed to understand what the boy attempted to say which his quiet giggle at the tip of Bruce’s nose gave away. 

The hand at Bruce’s restrained wrist moved. The locks clicked and released the harsh hold. Jeremiah ran his fingers over the red welts, hissed as if to show sympathy. 

“No fight then, I take it. Find something to stitch that wound up with.” Once again his lips find their way to Bruces and this time leaves a quick shy kiss that is over too soon. 

Now in a distance, Jeremiah remembers, “And oh, say hello to your kitty cat from me!”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some feedback, I appreciate it all a lot! Thank you.


End file.
